


When I'm Not Sleeping

by Ice_cold_kills, RedXD



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: (kinda), Comfort, Drinking, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Late Nights, One Shot, Red Army doesn't exist ig, Smoking, This started out as a vent but then Ice came and we made it gay, Tord lives with them, Vodka, nearly kissing, slight angst, we dont ship the real people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 20:37:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20588726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ice_cold_kills/pseuds/Ice_cold_kills, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedXD/pseuds/RedXD
Summary: Tom can't sleep lately. He decides to go out into the living room for some Smirnoff and well. He isn't alone.





	When I'm Not Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: We don't ship the real people! This is merely us shipping the characters!

It’s dark. He likes it that way though. When it’s quiet and dark blues paint the sky. Splotches of creamy vanilla dots and blues that make up a starry atmosphere. It’s peaceful, which considering his day to day life, is a rare feeling.

Most would argue that late at night is when someone should be asleep. However, sleep has become a useless and doubtful possibility. His mind nowadays is filled with bountiful amounts of oceans filled to the brim with doubt and confusion.

He won’t admit it aloud, of course, but most nights lately, he’s been crying himself to sleep. Edd, Matt, and Tord have been blatantly lied to so that they don’t realize anything is wrong.

Tom is someone of principle. Well, on occasion. Those occasions being applied currently. Either way, his principles are his values. He doesn’t believe in bothering other people with selfish, stupid personal issues frolicking in his mind. Sure, if Matt has a nightmare or if Edd doubts his morals, even the rare occasion of Tord coming to him so he doesn’t think about his parents. Each moment any one of them comes to him, which is surprising to begin with, he doesn’t hesitate to subtly make them feel better. However, if anyone asks, he doesn’t give a shit about anyone.

His problems are different. They are miniscule and unimportant in the long run. The universe is infinite and his mind is a small piece of rubble people pass by on their walk down the street.

Sometimes he wonders if he should just tell someone. Maybe he should open up his foolish mouth and speak about his river of foggy thoughts and blurry questions. Maybe it would help. Except, it wouldn’t. He would worry them. He would cause Edd to grow concerned, or Matt to give that look of innocent confusion. It could possibly cause Tord to lessen the insults. 

Which he doesn’t want. Pity. He hates it. He doesn’t want it. He isn’t some pitiful creature and if someone ever chooses to look at him with any ounce of pity written over their face, he will personally punch them. 

So that’s where he is. 

Tom isn’t sure of the time. He hasn’t looked at it. He’s vaguely aware that it’s somewhere around midnight. Possibly later. Either way it doesn’t matter. The concept of sleep is long gone.

At this point, he’s just staring at his ceiling while listening to the rhythm of silence. 

His limbs are frozen. More than his mind is. Which isn’t saying much. His mind is awake and alive. It’s thriving, the rivers rushing speedily. Each stream is flowing, the water brushing past groups of rocks. 

At some point his brain tells his arms and legs to move. He thinks it has something to do with an ache for a drink to clear his head. 

Stumbling out of bed, he stands hunched in place. His room is dark and far more silent than his head. He counts his heartbeat, ringing in his ears. 

Bump. Bump. He decides after a while, a long while, to move. Stepping slowly over each messy aspect of his room, he makes his way to the door without falling over anything camouflaged among the darkness. 

The door is also swamped by the black shadows haunting his room. He eyes the chipped paint. Sharply inhaling, he reaches out blindly. Eventually, his hand catches the door knob and Tom turns it slightly. The click nearly brings his mind back. 

_ Nearly. _

Opening the door, he wavers out into the hallway. The other doors are closed. The suspects inside most likely asleep.

His mind distracted and in a whole different world, he flounders at the speed of a turtle. Slow, but moving, he reaches the kitchen and living room. Turning left into the former, Tom opens the white blob that slightly resembles a fridge in his preoccupied brain. Light bleeds from the object, disrupting his thoughts and making him squint in disdain. 

A bottle of Smirnoff is what he eyes first, wasting no time popping it open and taking a swig. At this point, he’s built up quite the resistance, so it doesn’t affect him in the slightest.

A few more stumbles occur and he crashes onto the couch. 

A voice breaks his focus of silence and emotion ridden music.

“Why hello there,  Jehovah’s Witness.”

_ Huh. Why am I hearing Tord’s annoying voice? _

He looks around before spotting Tord. He sits on the opposite side of the couch. 

Grumbling, “Fuck off Commie.” 

The other rolls his eyes, “I would gladly do so, but you don’t own the couch.”

_ Nghhh, I’m not drunk enough to deal with him. _

Taking yet another swig of his vodka, he glares at Tord before sinking down in his seat. 

“Why aren’t you in your fucking room then?” He growls.

“What? Am I not allowed to leave my space once in a while?”

Groaning, he sips his drink again. Tom lazily raises his arm to point threateningly at the other, but considering he is now slightly tipsy and already drunk on lack of sleep, it’s unlikely to be effective. 

“It’s..” He glances at the clock they have hung on the wall. It’s one of the pieces of junk Matt’s adopted. It reads ‘1:23 AM.’ He continues, “One-thirty am for shite’s sake, why aren’t you in bed?”

Tord raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms with a sly grin, “Why aren’t you?”

_ Damn can’t argue that. _

He tries to think of a comeback, but in the end he just shuts up. The two sit in silence, until eventually Tom runs out of liquid in the bottle. He stands up on his wobbly two feet and turns to go get a new bottle.

Tord pipes up, commenting, “A penguin can walk better than you, good grief.”

Pointing his empty bottle at him, he drunkenly combats that, “Shut- Fucking off!”

“I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean-”

“It means fuck off ya commie, that’s what it means!” He growls and falters towards the fridge again. He grabs another bottle of Smirnoff and places the empty one on the counter. 

When he plops back onto the couch, Tord looks at him with a mixture of judgement and displeasure. At least that’s what Tom sees.

“How many bottles are you going to have? 100?”

Tom takes a sip, “Maybe, as many as it takes to turn the bugger off, what does it matter to you?”

He shrugs, “Why does it matter to  _ you _ ?”

“The fuck?” It confuses his head and he grumbles incoherently, “Fuck off, commie.” 

“I don’t think I will.”

_ What the- _

The tone of his voice catches him off guard and he gapes in silence. He turns to look at the other with a raised eyebrow, “What..?”

Tord frowns, “I said I’m not going to fuck off-”

He stares blankly, “What- Why? The fuck?” 

“I don’t want to?”

“Why are you even out here again?” Tom sips his vodka and breathes sharply.

The boy in the red hoodie purses his lips. He narrows his eyes, brow raised, “Because I can be…”

“Pff, that’s bullshit. Both of us know you’d be passed out dreaming about world domination at this point. So why the fuck are you awake?” He hisses with a half chuckle.

“I just stayed up late tonight, is that so weird?”

Tom snorts, “To be honest, when it comes to you, yeah.” 

Tord rolls his eyes and gazes expectantly, “Why the fuck are you awake then?”

_ I- _

He gulps, side-eyeing the floor. Clearing his throat, he shrugs, “No reason.”

Glaring with sarcasm, Tord speaks with a stupid impression on Tom’s voice, “Oh woe is me I’m Tom and I down smirnoff like there’s no tomorrow at 2 am for nO rEaSOn!”

_ Damn. _

“I’m allowed to drink when I want to drink ya fucking commie,” Tom drinks again, emptying his bottle. He stands up, but Tord shoves him back down.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Glaring, “To get more Smirnoff, duh. Now bug off.” 

He tries to stand up again, but yet again gets pushed back down.

“Just stop.”

“What does it matter to you?! Let me drink.”

He shakes his head, “I think you’ve had plenty.”

“I said I’m drinking till my stupid head stops being so goddamn loud, I haven’t had enough yet, now stop.”

He’s pushed back down again.

“Tom, what’s going on.” 

_ Did he use my name or am I just that drunk? _

“Nothinggg- let me drink-”

“I’m not stupid okay? I’ve left you be for a long time, but I’m serious. You’re. Not. Okay.”

Giving up, Tom just sits. He feels a pair of eyes on him. After a moment he gives in, “I just- My head is always making me doubt myself or something. It’s been keeping me awake I guess.”

“Why haven’t you told any of us sooner?”

Why hasn’t he? Well pity of course. A bit of his values. Is there another reason. 

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead he chooses to be quiet as his stomach churns with boiled down thought. 

“Why should I..?” 

Tord’s eyes widen before narrowing. He frowns, taking a deep breath, “Because… we care about you.”

And a part of him. A really cruel part of him. It causes him to laugh. Not super loudly, as to not wake up Matt or Edd, but he still laughs. It only takes a moment before Tord smacks his arm to get him to stop.

He turns to raise an eyebrow, “What?” Tord glares. 

“Wait you’re serious?” 

More glaring.

Tom shrugs, “Sorry, I just didn’t think you guys had that low of standards. Especially you, Mr. ‘High and Mighty.’”

The other sighs, “Tom it’s not low standards, you’re our… our friend. And who says I can’t care about others!?”

_ That seems like a strange statement to hear directed towards me.  _

Reaching the bottle towards his mouth to take a swig, he frowns at the emptiness inside. 

_ Right. _

He glances at the other before sharply inhaling, “I never said you can’t care about others ya dunce. I just thought we had some sort of mutual hatred thing taking place here and everyday. As for Matt and Edd.. well I don’t need the pity.” 

Tord turns to fully face him, eyes swarming like a hive of bees. 

“It’s not pity it’s compassion. And I only hate you because you hate me!”

That causes Tom to turn to fully face him as well. He grits his teeth, “Who said I ever hated you!”

“What…”

He recoils and looks at the empty body, “Just- Nevermind. Compassion or pity or whatever, I don-“

“You can’t change that we care for you no matter what you do Tom!”

He gulps, taking a moment before processing his own words. He shakes his head and moves closer to Tom on the couch. He speaks quieter, knowing that anymore shouting will definitely wake up Edd and Matt.

“How long… have you really not hated me this whole time?”

_ Goddamn, I’m  _ _ definitely  _ _ not drunk enough for this. _

Running a hand down his face, “I’ve never _ actually  _ hated you.. we just changed so much that our opinions and all that shit clashed. I think natural order hates us more than anything.”

That spirals a short laugh from Tord, “I never really hated you either.”

“News to me. You do a pretty convincing hate act.” 

They sit in silence. Neither quite knows how to respond. Both of them just quietly ponder this new occurrence. 

It takes nearly 20 minutes before one of the two breaks the silence. 

Tom clears his throat, “So.. what do we do now? Still yell at each other..?” 

“I- no… I don’t know.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, me either.” He stands up and Tord grabs his wrist.

Glaring, he purses his lips, “Are you going to try and sleep now?”

_ Sleep..? _

Realizing, he shakes his head slightly in thought. Of course, only he knows about his insomnia or sleeping issues or whatever it is. Perhaps he could lie and then instead of sleeping maybe drink a few more bottles of Smirnoff and listen to music. He’d try playing a song or two on Susan, but he doesn’t do that often when the others are home. Plus they’re sleeping.

“Oh uh, yep. Gonna go.. catch some Zs and all that shit. Night-“ 

Tord ‘tchs,’ his accent pulling the word, making it roll off his tongue in an odd way. He gives an unamused face, “Now that you’ve pulled the bull shit, tell me the truth.”

“I- How did you-“ Tom shakes it off and clears his throat, avoiding eye contact, “I’m going to my room, probably listen to music and drink or something. Can you let go? I thought this-“ He gestures vaguely between them both, “thing was over.” 

Muttering nonsense hissed from Tord as he shakes his head. The words ‘kjærlighet’ and ‘søt jævel’ are all he catches, but he can tell that the grumbling is Norwegian. 

_ What the heck his he mumblin’ about? _

Voicing his thoughts for once, “What is with all your muttering?” 

The other flushes in the dark, Tom doesn’t notice. Gulping and glancing up, he tightly frowns, “Random stuff.”

Raising an unamused eyebrow, he rolls his eyes, “Right. Anyways, are you gonna let go?” 

Tord whispers something. 

“What?”

His face grows red, Tom notices a slight change in color. He clenches the man in blue’s arm tighter, lips parting with a slight tremble as he whispers a bit louder, 

_ “Jeg elsker deg.” _

…

_ The fuck does that shit mean? _

“English commie, I’m not fluent in Norwegian, you know this.” 

“That’s the point Jehovah.”

Tom groans, “Well are you going to tell me why that was necessary and what it meant or can I go now?”

Accent thick, he smirks slightly, “Figure it out for yourself~”

_ What. The..? _

Caught off guard, he blinks, silent before glancing at Tord’s still present grasp on his arm. 

“I- You-”

The other moves to sit on his knees, pulling Tom down. He gets close into his personal space and stares straight into his eyes. Or well, lack of.

_ What.. is- _

Silver eyes move down. He follows them and catches the gaze stopping on Tom’s mouth.

Gulping, he locks eyes again with Tord. He stares into the shining silver and blinks a few times. It feels like the bridge in a song. You can feel the chorus coming, the build up becoming a thrill before the show. 

His heart swells, it beats in his chest, ringing through his ears. It’s loud and annoying, but for some reason it becomes a faint humming melody as he stares into Tord’s eyes. He glances down and stares at the other’s lips. He feels the same.

Leaning in slowly, they hear a voice break their focus. 

“Tord? Tom? Why are you guys up this early?” Edd’s voice rings, making his heartbeat stop humming, making him realize what they were about to do. He jumps back, avoiding eye contact.

“Nothing, we were just talking.” 

The two lock eyes for one last moment before they both stand up and go into their seperate rooms.

—

It’s a month later that they end up finding themselves in a similar situation. 

Tom has been spending the nightly hours on the couch, avoiding his room and his thoughts. He drinks what he thinks is either his fourth or third or fifth or something bottle of vodka. Either way he’s had some alcohol at this point.

What can he say, he likes the way it numbs his mind. 

There’s a bit of shuffling from the hallway and he turns his head towards the sound. Tord stands there, box of cigarettes in hand. 

His eyes widen slightly, face becoming a warmer color.

The thing is, ever since they nearly ... nearly ‘got along’ both of them haven’t talked to each other and relatively ignored the other.

Usually Edd or Matt is always with them, so now for the first time in a month, the two are alone.

“Hey there-”

“We both… last time.. I just.. we probably shouldn’t be alone together again like that.. I-” He eyes the lighter and then the box of smokes, “Just don’t smoke too many of those if possible.”

Tord’s expression is hard to read, his eyes twist with a mixture of hurt and… something else. Tom can’t quite pin it.

Lowering his voice, eyes downcast, “Yeah I get it.”

With that he makes his way towards the front door. He pauses at the door and glances over, his voice is void of emotion, 

“I recommend google translate if you never bothered to figure out what I said that night.”

_ Huh..? _

“What?”

The other speaks more sharply this time, “Jeg elsker deg. Translate it, I’ll be going now.”

Tom doesn’t hesitate, his response immediate.

“Why can’t you just tell me?” 

He gets a sharp inhale as Tord turns his head away and whispers loudly enough for Tom to hear, “I don’t want to see your reaction.”

“What’s so bad about that?” He purses his lips, stubbornly lazy in a way only drunk tom can achieve. 

So maybe he’s on his sixth bottle, who cares.

Tord frowns and turns to look at him, “It’s nothing, just google it or whatever. I’m leaving now.” 

“Fucking commie, why do I have to google it, you’re the one who didn’t speak english when you said it, don’t gotta make me-“

The sound of the door creaking open makes him pause, he watches, drunk and confused, as Tord exits the house and stands outside in the front lawn. 

_ Wow. _

Gruff and slow, he fumbles for his phone. Pulling it out, he types hazily for google translate. 

He doesn’t think much mind to the matter, it was probably some insult. 

Tom clicks the translate button and..

His mouth falls open slightly as he blinks. 

_ Am I reading this right? _

His throat feels suddenly dry as hell. He gulps and takes a sip of his drink. His eyes ache almost as bad as his stomach. His heart and mind are the worst. The heart inside him is loud and disoriented while his brain is just as scattered if not more, screaming with confusion. His stomach churns over and over with a single thought.

_ ‘Why?’ _

Why does Tord like him of all people? Sure they’ve already established that they didn’t hate each other, but… He supposes he can’t question it that much considering he has similar feelings.

He doesn’t particularly like them though. They’ve made his life extra brilliantly difficult. He can still remember when they were in high school and he had tried to give Tord a love letter. Out of nervous energy he had forgotten to sign it and Tord ended up dating someone else who had confessed, acting as if they wrote it.

It hurt.  _ It really fucking hurt.  _

Tom doesn’t want that shit adding up on his already overcrowded plate.

Still.. Tord likes him? Or more so… ‘loves.’ It’s a weird thought.

Shakily placing the bottle of Smirnoff on the coffee table, he glances outside and sees Tord smoking a cigarette. 

_ Should I… _

He isn’t sure.. Of course Tord was the one who said that stuff, but still-

_ Screw it. _

Standing up on his shaky legs, he wanders over to the door and reaches. His fingers curve around the handle, gripping it tightly. He sighs, taking a deep breath. 

Pushing open the door, he sees Tord glance over.

Tom gulps, “H-I.. Hell..o..” He isn’t sure what exactly to say.

The other purses his lips, “Yes?”

His voice takes a good minute before it can process even one of the words. He shakes, eyes staring holes into the ground, “I…. I love you too..” Before Tord has a chance for response, he clears his throat and squeezes his eyes shut, “I get that I’m a drunk asshole, but I looked it up and unless I made an error then it said you love me and well… I love you too, but I don’t know- how can mend-”

“Thomas...”

“No let me finish- I don’t know if you meant it or maybe I’m so drunk I’m imagining things, but you have to admit that we were close to definitely chikeroning like holy pop le’ boney. Or kissing and stuff. I just, I’m a mess of thoughts and I doubt you’d actually like that mess so-”

He gulps, being cut off by Tord grabbing his jaw. He side eyes and sharply inhales, “I’ve dealt with a lot of messes in my time.”

Leaning in, he stares at him with a twinge of a smile. The two step towards the door, using it as not only a support beam, but also a way to not be interrupted this time. Tom stares and feels that wonderful humming return along with the lovely starry view that is the other’s eyes.

His stare lingers for a moment longer before moving down to gaze upon his lips. He watches in the corner of his eye as Tord does the same. 

Wrapping his arms around Tord’s neck, he inches a bit closer. Tord puts a hand on the back of his head and one at the bottom of his jaw, tipping his face closer.

Leaning in, their lips connect. His heart flies, buzzing in the air as he feels like he’s soaring. Sure it isn’t movie quality, their noses bump and there’s a strong taste of vodka and smoke. Either way these small details don’t make it any less fantastic and the taste of smoke is almost addictive somehow. Maybe it’s because it’s Tord and he has a way of being extremely convincing at times.

One things for sure, who needs sleep when you got this?


End file.
